


The First Rule of the Black Market is You Don't Talk About the Black Market

by Konori



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Short Story, condensed version of a larger idea, will rewrite in more depth if there is interest, written for a school project
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-02
Updated: 2014-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-19 15:33:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2393609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Konori/pseuds/Konori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being a convicted criminal, one cannot expect to be suddenly whisked away on some mad venture at the whim of a stranger.</p><p>Jefræn finds out that such things do actually happen in real life, the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Rule of the Black Market is You Don't Talk About the Black Market

**Author's Note:**

> Pronunciations:  
> Jefræn - Jeff-rain  
> Nira - Nai-ra  
> Zarrick - Zahr-rick
> 
> Nira has unashamedly pulled personality traits from BBC Sherlock Holmes because I find them hilarious, just fyi.
> 
> If there's interest I'll rewrite and expand upon this story at some point.
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism and advice are appreciated, and flames are ignored like my grandmother's outdated dating advice.

The overhead lights coming on jolts him from his sleep, making him groan in displeasure. He sits up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and squints to see through the cell bars. Looking up, he blinks a few times to clear his sight; because surely there wasn’t a dangerously beautiful woman standing outside his cell.

“Who are you?” he asks sleepily.

The woman does not answer for a few moments. During that time they stare at each other through the bars. She looks to be nearly a foot and a half shorter, with black hair cut in a shaggy bob, and honey gold eyes staring at him from behind loose bangs. Dressed in darker than normal army fatigues and a dark grey tank top, a torque around her neck, strange tribal tattoo on her shoulder, at least three piercings on each ear, and a holster wrapped around her right thigh carrying a handgun that looks to be a SIG-Sauer P229; she makes an imposing sight first thing upon awakening he decides.

“Are you going to stare at me all day or are you going to get off your lazy ass and follow me?” the woman says finally, her voice rough with disdain and completely ignoring his question.

The click of the cell lock echoes down the hall and the bars slide open. Frowning, he continues to stare at her from his bed. She merely raises an eyebrow at him before turning and walking away.

“If you want to know who I am, you’re going to have to follow me.” echoes her voice back down the hall to his cell.

With a huff of frustration, he rises and follows the bossy woman to an interrogation room. Still a bit groggy, he can’t bring himself to worry over being in an interrogation room as he sits across from the gun carrying woman. The door snaps shut; the sudden sound causing him to flinch and adrenaline starts to pump through his veins.

Well, maybe he could start worrying now.

 

The obnoxious, ear bleeding sound of a chair scraping across the concrete as the woman turns her chair around to straddle it, makes him cringe and grit his teeth. Shooting a glare at the army dog, he sees her smirk as she lays her chin against one of her arms draped across the back of the chair. The sound of flipping pages makes him look down at the table. She was looking through one of two files he hadn’t noticed before. He really needed more sleep he decides as he watches the pages flip.

“Police Report” blazing at the bottom of the pages, the file had his mug shot and a bright white sticker with his name on it. Well, the one the police had caught him with anyway. She suddenly snaps that file shut and shoves it toward him, not even sparing him a glance as he twitched in shock, and opens the other folder.

It feel like his stomach has dropped to the floor and cold sweat begins to coat the back of his neck as he clenches his fists in his lap. For there on the first page, in bright red, was stamped “Classified”, with his mug shot sitting smugly at the top right corner.

That was not what made his blood feel like ice running through his body though. No… it was the fact that on that very same page was his birth name; the name he has not even uttered in nearly eighteen years. The name he was quite sure he hired a renowned underbelly hacker to erase from any and all databases they could find.

He looks up to see the woman’s face and finds her staring at him. His breath catches in his chest as he watches her. Honey gold eyes inscrutable as she seems to barely even breathe as she observes him. He feels like he’s being watched by one of the big cats stalking the jungles back on Earth. He has the sudden urge to have a gun in his hands for the first time in his life. A knife if nothing else.

It seems his earlier appraisal was entirely accurate despite her size. She was dangerously beautiful just like those big prowling cats. All fangs and claws wrapped in a stunning coat.

 

“So…”she starts.

Badly startled, he jumps so hard the chair nearly falls over and his knees rattle the table. She shoots him that damnable smirk as he catches his breath and shifts his chair back.

“So what?” he snaps, grogginess gone with all the adrenaline cruising though his veins due to this wretched military mongrel and the file sitting innocently in front of her.

“You, Mr. Convict, have been chosen by the government of Dhima for a mission of the utmost importance, blah, blah, blah, Black Market, blah, blah, a horde of merciless mercenaries, blah de blah, and most certain death. So what do you say? Want to save some animals?”

He stares at her in utter confusion. Was she addled in the head?

“What?” he asks in a daze.

“I’ll explain in more detail on the way to Dhima. Do you have anything you want to bring along? Clothes, toothbrush… anti-armor grenades perhaps?” she asks, waving her hand as if to dismiss his words physically, tone perfectly serious, but her austere gaze practically oozes amusement.

He has never wanted to throttle someone so badly in his life.

“Look… _Miss_ …” he nearly can’t get ‘Miss’ passed his lips. He’s never been so pressed to address a woman properly. “I have no idea who you are, or what in the bloody hell you are talking about. So if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to have to –“

“Did I mention this is like your ‘Get out of jail FREE’ card?”

That… makes him pause.

 

Looking around Nira’s star cruiser from his seat; he found out her name while under great duress by said woman; he tried not to remember how exactly he came to be upon the Void Prowler. How she came up with that name, he would rather not ask. Nira sits across from where he sat; his injured leg protested at standing for any length of time; and leans on the table in a bored fashion.

“So Mr. Convict, the Council on Dhima wants you to infiltrate the Black Market and go about revealing the identity of the ‘Overseer’, as he calls himself, and the leader of the Lame Lizard-“

“I would prefer if you would call me by my name." he says in irritation before comprehending what she said and asks incredulously, "Lame Lizard?"

She gives him the “Look” that is easily interpreted as “You’re an Idiot” before continuing.

“After which, we then go in and wipe out both them and all their little underlings for kicks and giggles.”

He gives her the “Look” right back, to which she rolls her eyes.

“If you happened to be using your brain at the moment, you would remember exactly _what_ lives on Dhima. But I’ll refresh your memory and remind you that one of the famously gigantic lizards that rules the territories on Dhima left you that little fashion statement hidden beneath that armband of yours. You might remember him as huge, lanky, with gruesome teeth and covered in black scales and walks like a dinosaur on a normal day. Besides, calling you Mr. Convict is more interesting than calling you Jefraen."

He jolts at her statement. How did she know about his mark?

"I have no idea what you are talking about." he says with a charming smile, shifting into conman mode in his nervousness.

She pins that predators gaze on him as she had back in the interrogation room before she smiles, all teeth gleaming brightly under the fluorescent lights of the cruiser. It made goose bumps sprinkle down his arms and the hair on the back if his neck rise up.

"Just some friendly advice about me, Jefraen, which you would do well to remember until your last dying breath. Conmen, who have the audacity to lie to me, make me have nearly uncontrollable urges to violently introduce a bullet to their brains."

He stiffens in his seat, sitting up straight as her right hand drifts down near her gun holster. He would rather not be shot by this crazy female again.

"Sorry, sorry!" he says quickly, raising his hands up in surrender.

She sighs as though disappointed in his surrender, her hand returning to lay on the table, and he shudders just a bit. This woman was insane!

They remained silent after that for what seemed like ages, well to him anyway. Nira put him on edge like no one else and he was loathe to admit that he missed the pounding in his blood at the possibility of danger he got during his cons. When he could no longer stand the silence did he brave speaking again.

"So... You know what I do for a living... May I ask what you do?"

"On record, or off?"

"Both?"

"Officially I am the representative for the three Eseras my marks represent and the Dhiman Council. I usually go around to the various territories and speak with the ruling Eseras, with trips off planet to represent at other government bodies. Unofficially..." she trails off before she shrugs and continues. "I steal, blackmail, kidnap, and kill people."

The nonchalance she exerts when saying she ruins people’s lives grates harshly against his moral driven sensibilities even as his adrenaline junkie habits cause his pulse to speed up. However, his anger at her blasé attitude overrides any high he would be drowning in at the moment.

"So you’re just like me, a convict." he hisses, his anger at her indifference to human lives making his tongue loose. "How can you sit there so calmly and talk about destroying people’s lives as if it were nothing?"

"Unlike you, Mr. Convict, I have not and never will be convicted. I'm a hired assassin. I just follow orders. Besides, my profession is too damn fun." she says, shrugging one shoulder.

He can literally hear the hidden meaning in her words. She was exactly like those big cats. She was a predator; she enjoyed the hunt, the kill. She was a trained beast on a brittle leash. This woman merely allows them to use her for her own means, and he was positive the Council knew this all too well.

She huffs as she stands, turning away from him and walking toward the pilot controls.

"Of all the criminals in the universe, they stick me with the one conman with morals." she grumbles with disdain as she flops down into the captain’s seat.

She was pressing buttons he had to idea as to their purpose before he spoke, her unaffected air just making him more riled.

"Better to have them," he growls. "to make me human."

The 'unlike you' hangs in the air unsaid.

She swivels around in her chair to face him, that damnable smirk on her face once again as she says, "You're one lucky bastard, you know Mr. Convict, being on this cruiser with me."

He snorts in derision.

"I'm stuck on a small ship with a trained killer, how the hell am I a 'lucky bastard'?"

"Lucky because I happen to have taken a liking to you, and because your scale-ly benefactor wants you alive." she says in such a matter of fact way that the threat was not missed.

Just like that, his anger fades and is replaced with adrenaline once again as he stares at the impossible conundrum Nira was becoming. She was an embodiment of danger, and he was positive the longer he stayed with her, the more likely his life would be probably meet its end. Damn him thrice over for looking forward to it.

"So, Mr. Convict," she says as he watches her smirk morph into a toothy predatory grin. "have you ever shot a gun before?"

 

Six months.

Six months, two weeks, three days, and twelve hours to be exact.

Two weeks, three days and twelve hours of being stuck inside a cruiser with an extremely bored assassin called Nira. An experience he was sure his sanity only survived because he somehow managed to keep her mildly entertained as he learned to shoot her collection of guns and fail abysmally with her ridiculous assembly of various knives. Near the end of the trip he was sure he was going to lose it and try to strangle her if he heard on more whining "BORED!" come from her mouth as gunshots threatened to ricochet around the cabin.

Three months of infiltrating the Black Market network and being trained in various forms of fighting and gun use by said cold-blooded, slave driver of an assassin that he refused to admit he had come to admire. Another three months after finding out the surprising identity of the Lame Lizard's guild leader and a few solid leads on the Overseer to consult the Council and the Eseras involved to put together a plan of action.

And for what, exactly? Because he was having a hard time seeing how much good the plan was supposed to be as he runs down a back alley with Nira lagging behind a step or two to cover his un-experienced ass as the Overseer's lackey’s fired round after round of bullets at them.

Then again, since the identity of the Lame Lizard's leader was Bannion O'Shean and the Overseer was none other than Councilman Adam's closest friend and confidant, Zarrick Markov, he shouldn't be as surprised as he was at just how expansive the men's payrolls were. At least, not after immersing himself into the dredges of the Black Market for three months while Nira stowed away in some flat and chanted "BORED!" through his chipset. That woman truly needed some other hobby to occupy her mind other than the 'Work' as she calls it. He was in no way referring to the veritable horror story their flat becomes when she went out and 'cleaned up some rubbish' and brought home souvenirs when she was exceptionally "BORED!”.

"Would you stop thinking like a conman and turn around and shoot your bloody gun?!" she snarls as he feels something blunt smack him upside his head; most probably her hand considering he wasn't dead or dying on the ground right then.

"I've not had practice with moving targets that are behind me, you abusive midget!" He snaps as they skid around a corner into the next alley.

"You turn, aim, and shoot! What's so bloody difficult with that, you sodding git?!"

Did he mention the Brit comes out when she's exceptionally frustrated with him?

Cursing under his breath and making sure nothing would trip him up, Jefraen spins around and fires off his entire clip before facing forward once again and continuing to run like the hounds of hell were on his heels.

"What in bloody hell was that?! How can you botch that?" Nira snaps. "You missed all of them! Not a single bleeding bullet-"

"Then you shoot them!" he roars.

"For Christ's sake!" she snarls as she pulls ahead of him before turning around, and the second he has passes her, lets fly a barrage of bullets.

Twelve thuds accompany the thunderous roar in the alley from her truly ridiculously sized handgun as she turns and follows behind again.

"Take a left and go into the second door on the left!"

Deciding better not to say anything about backtracking, he does as the assassin orders. Turning left onto a side street and quickly locating the door Nira mentioned, he slams it open and shuts it behind him once Nira has dived inside. Leaning against it, he gasps for air. They had been on the run since early this morning through what felt like the entire city.

"Mind telling me why we ran in here?" he gasps out, his shaking legs threatening to give out beneath him.

"Supplies." is all she says, her breathing only slightly elevated.

She looks at him with that shit eating grin he was close to adding to the list of things he found annoying about this woman.

"Couple of grenades on the shelf above your head there. Grab those and the clips for your gun. I'll be back here in a moment." with that she disappears down a hall into darkness.

Adrenaline is probably the only thing keeping him from passing out, he decides as he again does as told without a word. Glancing around the front room he is in, he would think he was in a military bunker during a war. Then again, he thinks wryly, this was a war of sorts. All this bunker was missing was…

" Well then, ready for another bout?" she says stepping back into the front room, decked out in an Uzi, a rifle, ammo, more knives, another shit eating grin, and-

"A bazooka." he sighs, more of a statement than a question as he rubs the bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"A bazooka!" she crows with a manic look in her eyes. "What's a war without a few good old fashioned explosions?"

"A relatively tame one with fewer casualties before you show up I'm sure."

"Sod off you old codger! Those are BORING!" she says with a zealous laugh as she swings open the door and dashes back out into the 'battle-zone'.

He can do nothing but sigh and follow the trigger happy, knife hurling, sociopath.

 

Jefraen considers himself to be a quite dashing gentleman of above average intelligence, with a good dose of common sense, and a skillset to compliment this. Staring down the barrel of an illegally imported hunting rifle, he could not see his skills getting him out of this bound as he was to a chair in the center of a storage warehouse, except curse Nira and himself in his head.

Himself because he got himself into this mess, and at Nira because he really should have taken her word as gospel since she was the expert with this ‘situations’. However, it is really hard for him to want to listen to her when she speaks to him like he’s an idiot. Which make him want to prove her wrong, and then he ends up in the very ‘situations’ he was trying to prove her wrong about.

He hears a door open and watches as some of the men shuffle away to let someone through. With all the pomp and circumstance of every politician, Zarrick Markov glides toward him like some English ponce.

“You know, I wondered when my dear Nira would let her victim off his chain.” Zarrick says as he says as he approaches. “Then again, she may have finally gotten bored of this repetitious cycle she and I have fallen into and decided to abandon this mission altogether. Leaving you here, at my mercy like all of her other pets. Hard to tell with sociopaths though.”

“Others? Cycle? What are you going on about?” Jefraen asks, trying to refrain from moving least Zarrick’s lackeys decide he’s trying to escape and shoot him.

“Yes, there have been others in this cycle of ours. Nira and I have been through this whole… cat and mouse routine several times before. None of her past victims have live to tell the tale.” Zarrick says as though he were sad about all of their deaths.

“Obviously.” Jefraen can’t help but say with a sarcastic drawl.

Zarrick grins and Jefraen finds himself putting his grin on his list of all things annoying.

“I can see why she has kept you alive for so long. You are most entertaining, and I’m sure her persistent boredom was distracted until now.”

“And you say that because?”

“We’ll you’re here aren’t you? She’s cut you loose in hopes of pinning me down, but that’s not going to work. It never has and it never will. Nira is the most effective hunter I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing the game with, but I’ve grown rather bored of it now. It’s time for her to die.” Zarrick sighs as he draws a gun from his suit and dials a number on his cell. “You were such a promising potential colleague. Pity you had to throw in your lot with the wrong side.”

“So now I’m what? Bait? She won’t fall for such an obvious trap.” Jefraen snaps.

“Oh, I think she will.” He says as he brings the phone to his ear.

Jefraen watches Zarrick warily as he circles around him, gun tapping some rhythm against the man’s thigh.

“Nira.” Zarrick drawls out sickly sweet. “Nira, Nira, Nira, you’ve let your pet out without his leash. How very… predictable of you. You’ve made this game so boring now.”

Zarrick suddenly chuckles and Jefraen thinks Nira has said something very crass as per usual.

“Yes, but Nira, this time it’s different. You’re pet convict is still alive and I’m still here with him. Why don’t you come out and play so we can finally finish this game? I owe you, remember?”

He chuckles again before shooting out an address and giving Nira one hour to get to the warehouse. At this point, Jefraen can feel himself start to panic despite the adrenaline flowing through him. Nira was reckless on minor missions. Nira going after her most favored prey? The destruction and death count was going to be through the roof. Looking around at all of the hired guns, he is increasingly positive he will not be alive in the next two hours. When all of the lights suddenly shut off, he amends his previous life expectancy estimate. He was positive he would not be alive in the next twenty minutes.

The sudden metallic slide of iron doors followed by the bone chilling cries and snarls of agitated predators make him reassess that estimate again.

He gives himself five minutes.

 

If anyone was to ask Jefraen what happened that night, he would tell them with great confidence that he did not know nor did he ever want to. All he knows is that aside from the creature’s snarls, the anguished cries from the lackeys, and Zarrick’s enraged howls, there was a single gunshot before the lights came back on. Nira was standing several feet in front of him with that triumphantly feral grin on her face, her gun smoking, and blood splattered all over the warehouse. Zarrick lay at her feet, shot execution style and Bannion’s corpse laid behind her in the same state. No other bodies around, not even their bones. Just their blood and not a single creature in sight.

Sitting at the table of their flat, Jefraen suppresses a shiver as he tries to concentrate on the paper. Nira sits across from him tinkering with a few of her home brewed poisons. After they had reported back to the Council, Jefraen decided that he would rather be hired on by the Council than be sent back to prison since he, unfortunately, survived. He became a permanent resident in Nira’s flat and took up missions from the Council as well as tagging along on most of Nira’s. The insane woman just kept everything too damn interesting for him to stay away.

“So how did you find me?” he asks as he sets down the paper and looks at her; he has been very curious after all. “The address Zarrick gave you was a fake, so how…”

He sees her take a quick glance at her SIG that was sitting on the table before she grabs it and stands, putting it back in its holster.

You have got to be kidding, he thinks with a bit of shock.

“I think I remember having a meeting with Adam within the hour. I should get going.” She says, walking toward the front door.

“I can’t believe this… You _shot_ a tracker into my leg?!” Jefraen shouts incredulously. “You were planning to use me as bait from day one?!”

“Well where else was I going to put it? The tracker needed scar tissue over it to get passed the alarms!” she says in her defense as she throws her hands up in exasperation.

She never denies that she had in fact planned it that way.

“So I was bait!” he snaps before running his hands over his face in frustration. “Jesus!”

“Well obviously!” she snaps back as she crosses her arms.

Stiffening, he looks over at her in disbelief. She stares back imperiously like he should have known this all along and that she has done nothing wrong. He feels his temper burst forth as he stands quickly, knocking over his chair. She looks like a deer stuck in the headlight as he surprises her.

“Ah… I suppose that’s a bit not good?” she asks with a tilt of her head.

“I’m going to throttle you.” He hisses before lunging at her.

She’s already fleeing through the door.

“Get back here you psychopath!” he roars as a grin threatens to force its way onto his face as he gives chase.

“I’m a high functioning sociopath with one friend and murderous tendencies, you sodding git!” she howls back with a laugh as she leads him on a merry chase through the city once again.


End file.
